Mess
by SlightlyObsessed
Summary: Levi writes home.


Dear Brian,

I had a realization today.

Ever since Petra was assigned to my squad, my thoughts have been a mess. Ironic, isn't it? The clean freak is a mess.

The point is, I haven't been sure what I've been feeling. Part of me was stuck in denial, and still was up until a few short hours ago. I convinced myself I was still disturbed by Petra's similarities to Shannon, and that was it. True, it started that way, but at some point- I don't know when- things changed.

Even when I almost realized it, when I almost admitted to myself what was happening, I never let myself think about it longer than a second. If what I suspected was true, then I was betraying Shannon. Yes, I remember what you told me. I know falling in love doesn't make me a traitor. But just because I know doesn't mean I believe.

It felt especially horrible because of Petra's similarities, especially that red hair. If Petra had been completely different, if she had been tall, jaded, and dark-haired (basically me but tall, come to think of it. I suppose Shannon and I were a testament to the saying "opposites attract"), it wouldn't have been so _wrong_. As it was, it felt like I was trying to replace Shannon. It was like I had torn my cloak and was buying a new one at the store. How could I do that? How could I just pick up the next best thing and be on my way?

I'm sorry, Brian. I just noticed how long I've been going on without actually saying anything. It's not like me, is it? More like Shannon.

The thing that made me come to my realization today was an interaction I had with Petra. I had just poured myself some tea when she came into the room, quick, but not quite Hanji-speed, and ran right into me. Of course, the tea spilled down the front of my shirt, and my cup shattered on the floor.

I didn't even have time to react before she started gushing out apologies. She was kneeling on the ground, scrambling to pick up the cup shards. She was so upset she wasn't really helping, and in all likelihood she was going to cut herself. I said her name, but she didn't respond. I said her name again, this time adding the word "stop." It wasn't an order, and I didn't say it forcefully. Just the usual way I do. But she looked up, so upset with guilt all over her face. I knelt down next to her and began picking up the shards. I might have said something like "let me," but I don't know.

Then, and forgive me if I misquote, she said, "I'm so sorry, Captain, and what with your thing about messes…" I don't think she would have normally said anything about that, but she was upset.

I replied, "It doesn't matter."

But do you know what I thought, Brian?

Messes don't bother me. True, I dislike them, but I can stand a mess. It's filth I hate.

They're two different things. A mess is something disorderly. Filth is something unclean. You can have orderly filth or a clean mess. For example, a neat pile of dirt in the center of the room is not messy, nor is a jar filled with bile. Yet, I wouldn't want to bathe in either. On the other hand, you can have clean laundry tossed haphazardly about the room, and it is clearly a mess, but not filthy (this example always makes me think of Shannon). So while I dislike messes because I prefer things orderly and they make it rather hard to clean, I do not hate them as I do filth.

I think I came dangerously close to telling Petra all of this as I carefully disposed of the shards and mopped up the mess. A part of me wishes I had. Would it have been so bad to open up to someone other than you? She would have been attentive, understanding, and certainly wouldn't have judged me for it. I found myself playing out how it might have gone if I had. She would've asked me why I hate filth, perhaps. Or maybe she would have been silent. I like to think she would have asked, because then I can pretend I answered. It is such a relief to explain these things to someone else. It was always comforting to talk to Shannon.

I would have told her, "Once, I heard a nurse say that filth causes sickness. Ever since then, I've been… almost _compulsed_ to clean. So in reality, it's not even filth I despise. I'm afraid of death. Not death by murder or being eaten alive, but a slow, agonizing death that not even Humanity's Strongest can fight."

I know I never would have been able to tell her that. But I can pretend.

I am sure that you can guess the full story. That nurse was your wife, Brian. Another nurse, one of her underlings, was so disgusted by the condition of the Underground. She couldn't understand why the people didn't keep clean. But your wife- I suppose I could just call her Amelia, couldn't I?- she explained patiently that the people didn't know that filth caused disease. She lamented that even if every person in the Underground was educated about it, nothing would change, because it wasn't in our power to keep things clean. Nothing could be done unless there was a drastic shift in the viewpoint of citizens up above regarding the Underground. All of that makes much more sense to me now, but at the time all I knew or cared was that somehow, dirt caused sickness, and when, not long after, I watched my mother die from that horrid plague, it stuck with me. Of course, I didn't immediately take to scrubbing down the brothel. At the time I was devastated, and even more so when Amelia didn't return as she'd promised. It disturbs me sometimes to realize just how close I was to being Shannon's adopted big brother. Perhaps fate fulfilled that destiny with Isabel instead.

But at the time, I regret to say I resented Amelia. I resented her for saving me when she let my mother die, and I resented her for not returning. I have long since realized the idiocy of those resentments, but at the time I wished for death, and I remained seated by my dead mother's side, crouched in filth, a tiny part of me still believing Amelia would come back and the rest of me hoping I'd die soon. It wasn't until later, when some primal will to live had been dredged up from somewhere deep inside, that I remembered Amelia's words and connected them with the ever-present death that engulfs the Underground. It was like a part of me was screaming, _I will not die this way!_ Ever since, I've cleaned. And do you know what, Brian? I haven't gotten sick since.

I haven't been able to figure out how Petra would respond to all of that. But it's just as well. I need to dwell on her less.

Look at that, Brian. I still haven't told you my realization. There was a time when I couldn't have read even one sentence of what I've written here. But Shannon was a good teacher.

My realization, to put it simply, was that I'm in love. I'm in love with Petra. I'm not in love with a cheap replacement of Shannon, but with Petra, because she is Petra. It is both a relief and painful to write these words. "I'm in love." I never would have guessed I'd have reason to say that again, but here it is. I'm in love. Maybe if I keep saying it, I'll be able to get over the shock and move on with my life.

It was the incident today that made me realize I was in love with Petra herself, and not an image of Shannon conjured up by my grief and projected onto Petra. Petra's response to the incident proved to me she and Shannon are separate. Petra's distressed apologies would never have come out of Shannon's mouth in such a situation. When Shannon and I first met and were in our "hating each other" phase, Shannon would have either laughed or yelled, depending on whether she was affected by the mishap. If she had been, she would have been angry, even though she would have known full well it was her fault. I would have been angry too, and in all likelihood things would have escalated from there (I still remember her denting that water tin in the process of smacking me over the head with it- and a miracle that I remember anything after that! To be fair, I deserved it. She had just spent several hours tutoring me only to overhear me disparaging her. And I most certainly was not afraid of her after that). However, had Shannon escaped unscathed, she would have laughed at me, delighting in my misfortune, even more so because she knew she had inflicted it. Again, I would have become angry, and things would have escalated.

Had it happened later, on the other hand, she would have apologized. Not a frantic, teary-eyed stream of "sorries" like I received from Petra, but a simple, sincere but unworried apology, and she would have had to laugh first. It wouldn't have been a mocking laugh like she would have given back in training, but a gentle, amused laugh, infused with good-natured entertainment. She would have genuinely thought it funny, but she would have carefully helped me clean up, a few mirthful giggles escaping every now and then. She would try to suppress them a little, for my sake, but she wouldn't be entirely successful, and I would have secretly been thankful. I'd have acted for the most part apathetic, with a hint of annoyance, but she would have seen through that easily.

"It's not funny," I'd have said after one of her giggles.

"Oh, Levi. Of course it's not." And she would have gently kissed me, the rag in her hand touching my cheek. It would have been dirty from scrubbing the floor, but I wouldn't really care.

Wait- I lied. There was a time when Shannon would have acted like Petra, blushing and awkwardly apologizing. But that was during the time when we were falling for each other and refusing to admit it. She would've hated that she'd been clumsy, and then hated that she was awkward about it. After gushing out sorries, she would've bit her tongue, mentally kicking herself for being so unlike herself.

But Petra is unapologetically apologetic. Her apologies are not unplanned and awkward. They're honest, and she meant to say every word. This is her normal.

It's actually kind of impressive… I don't know many people who can so readily own their mistakes, and be nothing but genuinely sorry for them.

I don't want to give you the wrong impression of Petra. Her essence is not captured by one overly-apologetic moment. Petra is so much more. She is a brave and dedicated soldier, a kindhearted friend, and at times just as fiery as the other redheads I've known. You should see her when she and Oluo argue. It is highly amusing.

But this did serve as a comparison point for me. I doubt if I would have ever forced myself to think about Shannon and Petra had this one difference not been so blatantly obvious when I looked into Petra's troubled eyes, and had I not thought about it, I wouldn't have come to my realization.

I loved Shannon. In truth, I still love her, and I always will. But I also love Petra. It is not a betrayal of Shannon. I'm not replacing her; Petra has won my heart through her own merit, and Shannon will always be a part of me. I know I am not required to live in grief as a widower all my life, and even more than that I know- I can almost hear her telling me- that Shannon would want my happiness. She'd probably play matchmaker, if she could!

She'd like Petra. They probably would have been friends.

I'm sorry. I've gotten the paper wet and smudged it.

I'm still afraid, though. It will still take me time before I can even dare to think about approaching her. I'm afraid that she won't return my feelings, but I'm more afraid she will, because if she does, I'll be vulnerable again. That's stupid, I know, because it will hurt just as much if I lose her now, without ever becoming close, as it would if we were- I can't believe I'm writing this- married. I'll have lost someone I loved either way. Still, it will take me time. I just hope I can find my courage before it's too late.

I know I'm thinking much too far ahead in asking this, but my thoughts are such a mess, and things just keep randomly coming to mind. Do you think Isabel would like having a new mother? Of course I'd never stop telling her about Shannon. She'd always know who her real mother was. But wouldn't it be good for her to have someone to… I don't know, brush her hair or some shit? I can love her. I couldn't do otherwise. But shouldn't a child have a mother? Then again, you never remarried. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say anything against you. You were everything to Shannon, and I don't think she suffered because you didn't remarry.

But now I'm thinking if Shannon didn't suffer for lack of a stepmother, then maybe it would only confuse and upset Isabel.

Then again, Shannon was a rather mischievous child. A rather mischievous adult, at that. Perhaps a mother- but again I don't mean anything. Besides, didn't we all love Shannon's insanity?

And you have always been a loving person. You have that caring instinct, the "hug reflex." I don't have that. Petra does.

But Isabel has you and Brigitte. I know she'll be fine. Still, I can't help but add that to my list of things to fret over.

I'm going to say goodbye now. I can hear footsteps, and while everybody but Hanji usually knocks (and it's not her, or the footsteps would be a lot faster), I don't want to chance somebody finding me writing this.

Especially not Petra.

Yours,

Levi


End file.
